


Shuffled About

by IshoMoogoo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gender Adjacent Characters, Genderfluid Characters, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Other, Plant abuse, a/c - Freeform, labels are for tools, not people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IshoMoogoo/pseuds/IshoMoogoo
Summary: Aziraphale wants some help with the appearance of his corporation, and enlists Crowley's help.rated for language and conversations about genitals





	Shuffled About

**Author's Note:**

> right, gunna say this right now. i DON'T care how shitty this fic is. i mean, i'm still ok with comments and critique, i'm just using this fic as a way to purge my system and get my writing back on track after some depressive episodes. so this fic isn't a super high priority for me.
> 
> so, yeah, be warned.
> 
> i do hope the foot notes work though. if they don't, there aren't many of them, so it won't be that big of a headache.

I pace down the line of potted plants, that I had decided to separate from the rest of the… herd? Pack? However you’d describe it, a few had been separated from the rest for a purpose. With hands behind my back, I march down to the far wall, inspecting the quietly shaking plants with narrowed eyes. I frown down at a rather alarmed bunch of petunias, which break into further hysterics from the added scrutiny.

“Right, not you lot then. Not up to par.”

I toe the small pot away from the wall, and continue my pace in the other direction. I glance over and eliminate some Devil’s Ivy, Calatheas, and a Dracaena from the line for various reasons. I then eliminate a rather uppity group of Bromeliads, making a note to teach them a lesson later. I then scowl between the two remaining plants, going over their leaves and flowers with a metaphorical fine toothed comb. Neither have any blemishes and are standing tall and firm, colour bright and vibrant.

Eventually, I decide to go with the red flowered Schlumbergera. With that settled, I pick up the pot and hold it aloft, turning around to make sure all of the others can see it from where they sit.

“Right you lot, listen up! Say goodbye to your friend, because it’s leaving! You should all be ashamed of yourselves! None of you are in the proper condition to even be considered as a gift! And you!”

I lower the potted cactus down to eye level, lowering my sunglasses so that it knows I mean business.

“Just because I’ve deemed you fit enough to be shown in public, you aren’t off the hook! If you, for even one _moment_, show _anything less_ than your absolute best, there will be dire consequences. Believe me when I say that you will be _begging_ for a weed whacker when I’m done with you!”

With the warnings given, I head out of the plant room and deposit the  appropriately terrified cactus on top of the heavy ornate  desk located in my Thinking Room1.  I then pull a sheer black and red ribbon out of thin air, and carefully wrap it around the red clay pot. I loop and tie it into a bow, making sure that it looks right before  turning and heading back into the plant room.

I have some time before I need to head out, so I use it to put all the pots back in their original places. Except for the Bromeliads. Those I shove into the Naughty Closet, across from a half used bottle of weed killer. Maybe a day or two in there will straighten the little shits out.  I don’t bother telling them anything  about what’s going on , it’s better to leave them guessing right now. Instil l s more terror that way,  and  takes way less effort .

W ith that taken care of, I check the time on my watch. Hmmm, 9:30 am. That’s a proper time to swing by the bookshop, right? Not too early? I could just ask if Aziraphale wants to go to brunch or something.  Or lunch, if he’s particularly busy today. He shouldn’t be, considering the date.  Besides, he’s always up for an excuse to close the shop, no matter  how much he fusses  about it .

W ell, no sense hanging around here then. I pluck the  cactus up and brusquely make my way out of my flat and out to the Bentley.  I set the pot down on the passenger seat, before revving the engine up and pealing out onto the street.  Some horns blare, and some morons shout from the middle of the road, but I ignore them in favour of flicking on the radio. I put in one of my cd’s, pleased to find that it hadn’t been left in the car for too long, and is indeed The Velvet Underground and not something else.  I’m  not sure what to think of it yet, but after my car came back from it’s fiery grave  a  year ago , it seems to have developed a taste for Green Day.

D on’t get me wrong, the blasted thing still belts out Queen like nobod y’ s business, it’s just switching things up a bit now. It’s nice, but it really pissed me off when it played Stay the Night on a loop one day. Nearly ruined a perfectly good day out with Aziraphale. Thank Whoever that he never actually listens to my music, otherwise that would’ve been awkward to explain. Maybe I should have a few words with it, put it back in line a bit.

Nah. The thing’s been through so much already. I’ll let it slide,  for now.

* * *

I make it to the bookshop in no time, swerving up onto the curb  just outside the doors.  I  cut the engine, grab the cactus, and slink my way up to the aged doors  a short distance away .  They obediently open up as I approach, not bothering to make me go through the ritual of actually laying my hand on the tarnished knob so I can go through unimpeded.  I barely notice the CLOSED sign as I  hastily  pass by,  but it sticks out to me regardless . Huh. The doors softly close behind me, and I look around the cramped shop.

“Angel? You here?”

Stupid question, to be honest. I can hear him bustling around upstairs. He just gets so absorbed in things, that if I don’t announce myself in some way he’ll get all huffy for the rest of the day2.  I’m not really in the mood for that, so I call out and wait for his muffled reply.

“Yes dear! Give me a moment, and I’ll be right down.”

I  grunt in response, and make my way into the back room. I set the pot down on one of the stacks of musty books,  pause to look at it for a bit, before scowling and picking it back up again. Where the Heaven should I put this?

As I’m looking around fruitlessly for a clear spot to place the cactus, Aziraphale finally walks downstairs and into the room.  I turn to look at him, pot still in hand  and hanging loosely  next to my leg . Aziraphale gives me an anxious smile, his hands flailing about his clothes that seem to be a bit out of place.

“Hello Crowley! What brings you here today? Would you like some tea? Is- is that a cactus?”

I  look down at the clay pot that’s still gripped in my hand, staring at it absently before my brain kick s back in.

“Oh, yeah. It’s called Schlumbergera, or Chistmas Cactus. Was trying to de-clutter the flat today, and there’s just no room for it. Didn’t feel like throwing it out though, and figured you could use something to spruce up the place. ‘Sides, you like Christmas stuff don’t you?”

I hold up the cactus, and Aziraphale gives it a bewildered look before hesitantly taking it from me. With my hands now free, I spin around and make my way to the couch.

“Thank you? Oh! This feels so love-”

I spin back around just before I plop down onto my favourite spot, staring at the gushing angel. Our eyes meet through my sunglasses, and Aziraphale gets this panicked look.

“-ly. This cactus feels so lovely.”

To emphasize his point, he pinches one of the flat parts of the plant and rubs it in between his fingertips. His smile  is twitching at the edges, and he  has this mirthful glint in his eye.

“Right, well, I should go find a place for this delightful little thing. Tea dear?”

I narrow my eyes at him, and Aziraphale turns to scuttle out of the room. I grunt out an affirmative, and finally settle down onto the couch.  I hear him putter around in the little kitchenette  upstairs , and lean my head back onto the cushion and close my eyes. Whenever Aziraphale decides to do things the human way, he always takes his sweet time.

After an indeterminate amount of time, I hear Aziraphale bustling back into the room. Porcelain clinks together, and I open my eyes as an ornate metal tray is set down on a newly cleared table. I observe him as he makes up a cup for each of us, lazily reaching out when he hands me mine first. I wrap my fingers around the warm sides of the mug, allowing the heat to worm its way through to my bones as Aziraphale begins to sip his own beverage.

We sit in silence for a bit, just drinking and listening to the muffled sounds of traffic. My eyes flit around the dingy room, absently trying to pick out anything that may have changed. Nothing seems to have been added or removed, so things are perfectly normal for now. He won’t be distracted by new books, and I’m not going to have to track down one of his purchased books to re-acquire it for him. He always gets so upset when that happens, he can hold a pout for weeks when he’s particularly put out.

That’s just this room though. I haven’t had time to look around the rest of the shop, but he would be trying to verbally shove me out the door, or complaining about today’s foot traffic if it were one of those things. So what’s bothering him? He hasn’t stopped fussing, if it isn’t his ancient waistcoat, then it’s the tea set. I finally take a sip of the acceptably warm tea, eyes landing back on the fussy angel.

“So, any plans today? Noticed the sign on the door.”

Aziraphale hums and looks at me inquisitively, mug lifted halfway to his lips in an aborted motion to drink. His eyes then flit to the side, and his eyebrows scrunch together in thought. A second later, his eyes light up in recognition before bleeding out into embarrassment. The hand holding his mug falters, and he lowers it down to his lap where his other hand starts to fuss with it instead of one his buttons.

“Ah, well, I was a bit caught up with something. Completely slipped my mind, I’m afraid. Probably for the best, considering the date. You remember, don’t you?”

One of my eyebrows creep up from underneath my shades.

“Kind of hard to forget the world almost burning down around your ears angel.”

A sheepish look crosses his face, and he looks down at the mug he’s still fidgeting with.

“Ah, yes, well. Quite.”

He takes another sip of his tea, me following suit before I decide to break the silence again.

“Get lost in another book then? I was hoping to tempt you to brunch or something, but I know how you get with recent acquisitions.”

Aziraphale perks up again, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh! That sounds lovely dear! There’s this lovely little place down in, oh, wait.”

His face crumples back into disappointment as he seems to remember something. A frown tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I set the still warm mug down on the table near the tea tray.

“Out with it then. What’s got you all in a tizzy? Have prior plans?”

He looks back up at me, absently setting his own mug down next to mine.

“Hmm? Oh, well, no. No _plans_ as it were. Nothing pressing anyway.”

“What is it then? Someone walk off with one of your books again?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

The conversation dies, but it looks like he’s working out how to say something, so I don’t try to press him further. Instead, my eyes start tracking around the room again, vaguely aware of Aziraphale twisting and picking at his fingers.

“Well, you see...”

I focus back on Aziraphale, who’s focused his gaze on the mugs. He throws a nervous glance my way, but remains mainly focused around the table.

“The thing is, the thought occurred to me that. Well, it’s going to sound silly, dear boy, but it has occurred to me that I’ve never really changed my appearance in any way during all this time on Earth.”

A snort slips out, and he flicks a glare in my direction.

“Oh hush!”

“Not my fault you’ve consistently stuck with one colour palette for six thousand years. Also not my fault that you remain firmly stuck in the 1800’s, and have an unhealthy obsession with tartan.”

The Angel’s glare devolved into a pout, and his hands start flapping about from his agitation.

“Oh! You! Really! I _like_ my clothes! And tartan is stylish!”

“Uh-huh.”

“_Anyway_. That’s not what I was referring to.”

My eyebrow raises again.

“Oh? Care to enlighten me then?”

“I was getting to it, before you so rudely interrupted.”

I just grunt and roll my eyes, sprawling even further against the couch, while ignoring Aziraphale’s indignant huff. Once comfortable again, I wave my hand in his direction.

“Right, get on with it then. We may be immortal, but I don’t fancy growing mouldy waiting for you to spit whatever it is out angel.”

Another ‘really’ is uttered under his breath, but he continues on soon after.

“Well, as I was attempting to say, I was thinking it was time for a change. Shuffle things about as they say.”

“No one has ever said that.”

“_Specifically_ in how my corporation looks. I was thinking of giving a more feminine look a try.”

That gives me pause, and I carefully study the anxious lines on the Principality’s face. My silence seems to make him more nervous, and he continues on with a stammer to his voice.

“I know it’s a bit silly to worry over, especially now, but I- I just didn’t really know where to start. Or even if it would be a good look on me. I’ve looked like this so long, what if I were to mess it up?”

I sit up a bit, still looking at the Angel intensely.

“Nothing really wrong with it angel. Be a bit of a hypocrite if I said that. Just threw me a bit. What brought all this on anyway?”

“Ah, well.”

He leans forward, and plucks his newly steaming mug back up.

“I’m not exactly sure really. I suppose the date got me all nostalgic. I kind of realized that, even though we’re both free of our respective sides’s scrutiny for the time being, I haven’t really made the most of my new found freedom. I mean, other than not having to report back to head office and all.”

I hum an affirmation, encouraging him to go on.

“And, well, I thought back on that last day. Well, what was supposed to be the last day anyway. You remember how I had to find a body to hitch a ride in don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I must admit that sharing Madam Tracy’s body got me a bit curious towards the female form.”

“You did look nice in that dress.”

None of that blessed tartan _anywhere!_ A coy smile slides across the angel’s face, and he glances back up at me bashfully. His fingers fiddle with the mug, and he sets it back down on the table, near the edge.

“Thank you dear. You’re very sweet.”

“Yeah, whatever. So, wanting to give womanhood a spin? Not so bad really. A bit liberating in certain situations.”

“Hmmm, yes. I suppose you would know more about that, what with the first hand experience and all. Oh!”

His smile suddenly goes super nova and sickeningly sweet, and he suddenly turns his full attention towards me. My brows furrow. Well, this should be interesting.

“Oh yes! You’ve been a woman multiple times throughout history! Perhaps you could help me in my endeavors!”

I cock my head to the side and frown.

“Help? What do you need help with?”

He flaps his arms around, and then starts to excitedly wriggle in his seat.

“Yes! You could definitely help me! Oh! Where to start! But that’s the crux of the matter isn’t it?”

His frantic motions slow down, as he starts to think.

“I’m not really sure where to start with all this dear boy. I’ve never given any thought, before now, towards how humans are shaped and what makes one masculine or feminine other than what seems to be popular at the time. I’ve been stuck on default for so long, I’m not even sure how I could go about changing my body. Oh, and there aren’t just two genders anymore nowadays are there? Oh, this is beginning to sound ever so complicated. How do humans even figure these things out?”

“Whoa there angel!”

I raise my hands, and Aziraphale stops talking, though his hands and mouth continue to flap and make abortive movements. Anxiety still lines his face, but he seems to be paying attention to me now.

“Right, first thing’s first.”

I sit back up, with my elbows propped up on my knees.

“Stop thinking about what whatever it is humans do about their bodies, because you aren’t one.”

He closes his mouth and tilts his head, brow pinching together in concentration. He then gives a hesitant nod.

“Right.”

“’Sides, humans hardly know what they’re doing with their own genders anyway. They keep getting caught up in all their arbitrary labels and boxes, and are way too concerned with how they fit in with others to really understand themselves and what they like most of the time. The only reason to worry about that kind of thing, is when you’re trying to blend into a certain group, or present a certain image to those around you.”

His face relaxes, and he gives a contemplative hum.

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been all that concerned with what humans thought about you. So just figure out what exactly you want to change, and let me know so I can help you go from there.”

His smile spreads across his face, and his countenance brightens once again. He lets out a relieved sigh, and looks back up at me.

“Yes, that makes far more sense now. Thank you Crowley, it means a lot to me.”

I feel my lips twitch up into a small smile in return.

“Yeah, well, I am the ‘expert’ as I were.”

“Indeed.”

After another moment or two of silence, I suck a breath in through my nose, and clap my hands down on my knees.

“Right, no better time then now I suppose.”

I effortlessly slide my way off the couch, and saunter over to the still beaming angel. I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it with false demure. I pull him gently to his feet, and lead him out of the back room.

“So, what specific changes were you thinking? Just the obvious ones like the bust and hips? Or will you be changing your hair and go for makeup as well? Ooh, maybe even a wardrobe change?”

I turn to him and waggle my brows as we walk into the main part of the store, which earns me an exasperated look in return. My grin widens into a sassy one, which makes Aziraphale’s eyes narrow and mouth pinch further. He then removes his hand from mine, and starts smoothing his vest down as he draws himself up primly.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress my dear, but I will consider it in light of any changes I may make today. Now, let us make our way upstairs, where we may have some privacy. I have recently acquired a full body mirror just for this occasion, and I find it will be most helpful in our pursuits.”

I just continue grinning at him as he wanders over to the stairs. Better than a flat out refusal, anyway. I make to follow him to the stairs, but my eyes halt on the cactus that is perched on a nearby windowsill. A portion of the window behind it has been cleaned spotless to allow light to flow more easily towards the plant, which looks almost more vibrant than before. I tilt my head at the sight, and I feel a thought squirm it’s way to the front of my mind.

“Angel?”

“Hmmm?”

I see Aziraphale halt halfway up the stairs from my peripheral vision, turning to me with a curious hum.

“What’s a word for a group of plants, or a bunch of plants all in one place.”

“Just one kind of plant or several different ones?”

I turn to look up at him.

“Several different ones.”

He hums thoughtfully again, looking down at the bannister.

“I believe the term is clump.”

“Clump? That sounds stupid.”

He casts an unimpressed look down at me.

“I’m not the one who came up with it dear, and you did ask.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s a stupid word for a descriptor. It’s like, like-”

I finally start following the angel, who has begun moving again, up the stairs.

“Like a school of fish! It’s not like they’re learning anything while swimming around, regardless if they’re all grouped up or not. So why call them that in the first place?”

“I’m sure there’s a reason dear, no matter how unfathomable.”

I follow him into a reasonably sized bedroom, which has been made tiny and cramped by more books that have been carefully stacked and strewn about the place. If it weren’t for the seldom used bed stuffed into a corner, and the fact that I’ve been in this room before, I wouldn’t have known the difference between this room and the one downstairs.

I watch as the angel walks over to a relatively modern looking full body mirror, which is standing right next to his closet door. He positions himself in front of it, and begins to inspect himself, much like how I imagine he was doing when I arrived.

“Right. I suppose we should start with my physical characteristics, and move on from there.”

He frowns at his reflection, shuffles from foot to foot, and gives me a helpless look while tugging on his vest. I stifle a sigh and slide in next to him, on his right side.

“First off, were you wanting the basic woman’s package? Like breasts and wider hips? Or did you just want to look androgynous?”

“I suppose the basics, since that was what I was aiming for. Do you think they would suit me?”

He glances at me, and I look him up and down with a thoughtful hum. I cock my head to the side, and walk around behind him, glancing every once in awhile at his front in the mirror. I shrug and settle back in at his right.

“Don’t see why not. Anything can look good with the right trappings. Besides, even if you don’t like them, you can just hit the reset button and change back.”

He nods and makes a noise of affirmation, but has the look he usually gets when he doesn’t fully understand what I just said. _Sigh, _it’ll be another few decades before he manages to catch up with the current lingo. Not that I blame him, I can barely keep up with it as is. I shake the train of thought from my head and look down at him, after removing my glasses and tucking them away in my jacket. I need to properly concentrate on the task at hand, and it will be easier to look at him unimpeded.

“Right, let’s start at the top. Try and make some breasts. Take off the vest first, wouldn’t do to stretch the fabric.”

“Right.”

He carefully removes the article of clothing and, after folding it carefully, hands it to me. I turn around and deposit it on the smooth bedspread, only to see nothing has changed when I turn back around. The angel has a lost expression, which is quickly devolving into frustration. He eventually huffs and turns his gaze to me.

“How, exactly, am I supposed to go about this?”

I blink at him for a moment.

“I don’t know, just imagine them growing I guess. Never really thought about it too hard before.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

I shrug, and stuff my hands in my pockets.

“That’s cause it is. Don’t think so hard about it angel, they’re just lumps of fat.”

He frowns further, and turns to face me fully.

“Yes, but how should they look? How should they feel? I need something to draw on Crowley!”

With an aggravated sigh, I pluck up his hands and place his palms against my chest.

“Here, I’ll give you a demonstration. Pay attention, cause I’m not going to do this twice.”

He nods earnestly, and concentrates fully on where his hands are placed. Maybe I should’ve thought this through. Oh well, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get it any time soon anyway. I focus down on my chest as well, and soon two nicely sized mounds are cupped within the angel’s hands. He makes a noise, and it seems like he’s starting to understand.

“Now it’s your turn.”

I maneuver his hands to his own chest, which is considerably softer than mine was. With a shift of my shoulders, and a flickering thought, my shirt instantly shifts to fit more comfortably around the new additions. I don’t mind my shirts snug, but I’m not fond of popping buttons.

“Should I make mine the same size as yours?”

“Nah. I find that being proportional to your own body looks better overall. It’s up to you though.”

“I think I shall heed your advice on this. Do let me know when to stop dear.”

I give him a nod, and drop my hands from his. He starts to concentrate again, keeping a firm grasp on his chest. After a moment or two of staring, his chest begins to soften even more, and starts to fill out. I signal him when it’s time to stop, only making a few adjustments here and there as well as miracling his shirt a bit looser. He makes no comments to the change in his clothes, though I suspect its only because I just changed the fit of it, not the actual garment as a whole.

“Do they look alright? Aren’t there appropriate garments I must wear when having these?”

He looks to the side to check his profile in the mirror. He doesn’t seem entirely put off my his new body parts, but his hands are still fluttering around his body nervously.

“They’re called bras, and unless you put the thought into growing some nipples as well, you really don’t need them. It’s not like they’re going to sag on you, and no one’s going to be feeling you up either.”

His frown persists, and he looks back down at them.

“Besides, you wouldn’t like wearing them anyway. Downstairs had a hand in making corsets, and trust me when I say they’re pure evil. Sure, humans have made changes to the various chest bindings over the years, but they aren’t any more comfortable now.”

This seems to placate him, and his fretting has lessened somewhat. He then looks back up at me with an expectant look.

“What next?”

“Now we do the waist. Want me to show you with mine again?”

“Oh, yes. If you would be so kind.”

He gives a happy little nod, and doesn’t need any prompting to grab onto my waist. His hands rest just above my hips, and dip in as my muscles contort inward. I shift his hands over my stomach so he can feel it curve inwards as well until I have two thirds of an hour-glass figure. He drops his hands, but I stop him before he tries the change on himself.

“Remember what I said about proportional. You aren’t going to have the same curves as me. You’re probably going to have a bit of spillover since you’re a bit, uh, softer than me3.”

This seems to upset him, as his face seems to pinken and pinch with a mix of embarrassment and distress. I blink at him owlishly as he starts to splutter.

“Well, I mean, it’s not my fault I look this way! Its just a byproduct of my habits as of late. Habits I don’t intend to change mind you! I don’t see what all the fuss is with how I-”

“Whoa, hang on! Never meant any offense!”

I raise my hands up in surrender, and he quiets down, but is still visibly upset.

“Who said anything about soft being a bad thing? It’s just a shape, angel, nothing wrong with it. It’s just something we’ll have to keep in mind to keep you proportional.”

This seems to placate him, and his metaphorical feathers visibly unruffle. Probably his real ones too. Pity I can’t see them when they’re put away.

“Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to recognize you if you went for the slim or muscular look.”

He begins smoothing down his clothes, and starts schooling his features again.

“Yes, I suppose it would be a bit of a shock after all this time, wouldn’t it?”

I quirk my lips into a smirk.

“It’d be the first sign that you’d been replaced with a demon in disguise. Don’t worry, I won’t let them use your face for long.”

“Mmmm, yes, thank you. I don’t think I would appreciate anyone but you walking around with my body. Who knows what they’d leave behind, or the ghastly things they would do with it.”

We both shudder at the thought, and soon he’s back to making changes to his corporation. Happy for the distraction, I give him pointers, and help him make the necessary adjustments until he’s happy with the results. The same process is repeated with his hips, and I make a quip about him finally getting his hands on my ass, which sends him into a sputtering fit about immaturity and _‘__this is nothing like that Crowley, and you know it!’_. I just grin as he defends himself, happy to see the rest of the tension leaving his body.

He manages his thighs on his own, and both of us re-adjust our clothes to fit our new features. I don’t bother changing how my clothes look, because I don’t really feel like changing my look _that_ much today. Might grow my hair out a bit later though. We’ll see. I notice Aziraphale looking curiously at my crotch, and I quirk my brow at him. He notices my attention, and clears his throat.

“Sorry dear, I was just wondering. Have you ever, gone the extra mile, as it were?”

“Not really.”

“Oh? Why not?”

I shrug and cross my arms over my chest.

“Never was really necessary. Was also never curious enough to figure out how all those bits worked. And I really didn’t feel like checking to see what they looked like either, though I suppose I could always use the internet if I really wanted to now. Again, it’s not like anyone was going to be looking, or feeling me up down there.”

I uncross my arms, and point down at my groin with a cheeky grin.

“Besides, with pants this tight, whatever I had down there would shrivel up and die before I got the chance to use it.”

The angel nods sagely, and then turns back towards the mirror to look at himself. He frowns and starts pawing at his hair. I quickly step behind him and grab his hands, looking him in the eye through the mirror.

“You want to change your hair next?”

His frown disappears, and he nods.

“Yes. I don’t believe short is a very good look with these features. At least, it’s not what I’m going for right now.”

“Alright. Just grow it out until you think it’s a good length. We can worry about style later, maybe even take you to a professional. Won’t be too different from your barber. Just more pampering and smelly products for you to try.”

“Yes, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

With that, his white curls start spilling down until they rest against his shoulders. When they stop just a bit past his shoulders, I go back to stand at his side.

“Anything else you want to add or change?”

The angel thinks for a moment, eyes flicking up and down the mirror. He then frowns slightly.

“I’m not sure my current face looks right with this look. Should I change it too?”

I hum thoughtfully, and look at his reflection.

“That depends. It could easily be altered with makeup, and you wouldn’t have to alter any of your bone structure. That’s generally what I do when I want to go for the full look. That way I don’t have to mess around with more than I have to.”

He scowls at that.

“I don’t really want to wear makeup. It sounds far too messy for me.”

I nod in understanding.

“It can be. Some of it can make your skin feel weird too. Well, I don’t think you’ll have to do too much. Just soften up some features, and round out some others. Here, just alter what I point out, and we’ll go until you’re happy with it.”

“Alright.”

After about an hour of poking and prodding at his face, we finally get it to where he likes it. His face is just a bit rounder around the edges now, and a tad bit smaller. All in all, he looks positively cherubic now. More than before anyway. I look at him in the mirror again.

“So, feel like a woman yet?”

He smiles gently, relief flooding his features.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

She then turns this way and that, admiring her handiwork. She then hums and plucks at her clothes thoughtfully.

“I suppose I should move on to the clothes now. What do you think?”

A smile tugs at my lips again, and I finger her shirt.

“Up to you. How far do you want to go with it?”

“I’m not sure. Do I really have to change my entire wardrobe for this?”

“No. You could technically wear all the same clothes, and people wouldn’t really bat an eye nowadays. What would be comfortable for you right now?”

She frowns contemplatively, and tugs at her shirt cuffs.

“Well. I’m not sure I want to fully switch to dresses. I think that would be a bit too much right now, but I wouldn’t mind changing some things.”

I nod, and turn her towards me again. She gives me a curious look, but doesn’t try to stop me as I tug her god awful tie loose.

“Well, we could switch you to a blouse or a different kind of women’s dress shirt to start. And if you were wanting to keep the same general look, you could wear a women’s vest or something. You don’t have to change you’re trousers at all, so really you’re only changing two articles of clothing.”

I drape the tie over my shoulder to free my hands up, and gently grab the fabric of her shirt. I look into her wide blue eyes, keeping my hands still on the fabric.

“May I?”

She looks down for a moment, before nodding her assent.

“Yes, it should be fine. I have other shirts like this, so it won’t be too big of a loss.”

I nod and, with a broad sweep of my hands, her shirt transforms into a much more feminine looking one. With an additional snap, a comfortable button up women’s waistcoat appears, that is the same colour of her previous vest. That way she won’t have to change her colour palette so nothing clashes. She lets out a pleased noise and quickly runs her hands down the new article of clothing. She quickly turns back towards the mirror, and assesses herself again.

“Oh this is delightful! Oh, but I feel that there’s something missing still.”

I look her over, and then sigh. I guess there’s no getting around it.

“Here, face me again.”

She acquiesces, and I pull the tie off my shoulder. With a flick of the wrist, it transforms into a hideous tartan ribbon of similar colours. I reach behind her neck, and carefully bring both ends up behind her ears to tie it into a bow on top of her head. I look at it a moment, and then cock it slightly towards her right ear, then nod my reluctant approval. She just won’t give up on it I suppose.

The sight of the accessory sends her into happy little wriggles, and I can’t help the content smile that worms it’s way onto my face. After a few more moments of cooing over her new appearance, she turns back to me.

“Thank you so much dear, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I just shrug at the praise, crossing my arms back over my chest, and she continues on.

“Well, I simply must show you my appreciation. I believe you mentioned going out to eat earlier. What would you say to sushi?”

I grin and pull out my sunglasses, which look quite different to how they did earlier.

“Lead the way angel.”

Without waiting for a response, I pivot on my new pair of heels to face the door. With an extra sway in my hips, I flick my hand through my elongating hair and head for the stairs.

* * *

1Brooding Room

2Crowley found Aziraphale’s shriek of terror funny for all of two seconds, before a rather hefty fantasy novel got thrown in his face. The Principality had apologized afterwards, but he kept making pointed comments about proper etiquette and, _really dear, would it kill you to knock?_

3Crowley never did hear Gabriel’s assessment of Aziraphale’s physique, and thus never realized that his choice of words may not have been the best, or well received. Then again, he’s never been known for his marvelous use of words.

**Author's Note:**

> not sure if i'm going to write more for this fandom tbh. not sure if i have the motivation or time with my current WIP's, and this fandom is drowning in fics and other content. so it's not like it really needs any more contributions from me right now.


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